


he is captain on board (in pretend salty breezes)

by mnabokov



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Time, Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5501999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnabokov/pseuds/mnabokov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the bridge, Kirk is Sulu’s Captain and in turn, Sulu is his pilot. In the Captain’s cabin, Kirk hands the reins to Sulu and Sulu just wants to help him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he is captain on board (in pretend salty breezes)

It hits Hikaru like a bullet straight through his gut, suddenly and all at once. Sulu’s situated on a shuttle and they’re flying over the coast of California, heading into dock in San Francisco; Jim sits to the right of him – shoulders brushing just this side of casual – and Chekov to the left. Pavel is talking animatedly about transwarp functions and Kirk is laughing, thunder rumbling in his chest and lightning sharp in his eyes. A smile tugs unwillingly at the edges of Sulu’s lips and he chuckles at his navigator and captain. Affection suddenly surges through his chest and Hikaru leans back in his chair abruptly, looks out the window.

 

The sky looks purple and bruised, dark and pulsing as if God had run his palms through the clouds and Sulu thinks of Jim, who is a warm body even now, sitting next to Hikaru – thinks of Jim’s purple-bruised lips and throbbing skin after Hikaru has sucked a mark into the column of his neck. Thinks of the storm living in Kirk’s body and something catches in his throat, a dread growing in his stomach.

 

“And the equation was only discovered last year! By the Russians of course –“ Pavel spews from behind Sulu, hands flying like restless birds.

 

Hikaru feels fingers ghosting over the back of his hand, and looks just in time to see Jim curling his hand around Sulu’s. Jim feels like an anchor and Hikaru exhales in a rush, still looking down at his hands.

 

“Hey,” Kirk says lowly, right into the curve of Hikaru’s ear. Hikaru tightens his fingers in response. This is when the trigger is pulled and a bullet shoots right through Hikaru’s chest, eliciting a small, sharp intake of breath.

 

He’s come to think of the Enterprise as a home now, and the people in it as well – takes comfort in the fluttering of Pavel’s hands, the flow of Commander Spock’s words and the small rush of breath Uhura takes whenever Sulu executes a particularly difficult maneuver. He’s found a home in space, and it feels odd now, to not look out the window and see the stars wrapped in darkness.

 

Hikaru realizes he thinks about Jim every day, whether it be in seconds or hours; Kirk has somehow found his way under Sulu’s skin and now he remains there, feasting on Sulu’s thoughts like a parasite, like a disease flowing through his veins.

 

-

 

He supposes that he should’ve seen this coming. Hikaru Sulu of all people should’ve seen the storm that was Jim Kirk.

 

It starts, like all things do, at the academy.

 

Sulu decides that it’d be a brilliant idea to steal one of Star Fleet’s shuttles and fly a lap or two all over San Francisco bay. It certainly isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to Sulu and at the end of it all, Hikaru thinks that it was pretty much worth it.

 

He steals a mod-shuttle with one of the kids in his flight class, zooms around San Francisco bay like he was born to do this – because he was. He lives for the speed and breathlessness, the weightlessness, and Sulu could go on about the cream and sugar sky that day but the point is, he fucking loves flying and he believes with every bone in his body that he was meant to be up in the stars.

 

The moment, of course, comes to an end like how all wonderful things do – some higher-up pulls him out of class the next day to reprimand him, but her heart isn’t really in it so Hikaru chalks the whole thing up to a win.

 

He’s celebrating in a crowded bar that weekend with Uhura and he feels so on top of the world, can’t help from smiling into his Cardassian sunrise whenever anyone leans over to say, “hey man, nice flying out there” and Nyota shakes her head amusedly in that way of hers. The lights are low and the alcohol simmers low in his belly, the rumble of laughter tucked into his chest so it’s kind of a blur when a blond-haired, blue-eyed cadet comes over to Sulu’s table to clasp his shoulder, says, “I’ve never seen anyone fly like that before,” right into the curve of Hikaru’s ear, hot breath sending a shiver down Hikaru’s spine.

 

“Thanks,” Sulu replies, or at least he thinks he did, because at that point in time there was a tremendous crash from the other side of the bar, where Gaila had decided the night was too quiet and took the problems into her own hands. Besides, Sulu knows that memories soften; he doesn’t think of that blonde cadet again until he steps aboard the USS Enterprise nine months later.

 

-

 

And then the Romulan drill. It’s technically Sulu’s first excursion and he collapses in his room afterwards, a pile of loose limbs, cool cotton and sweat. The adrenaline is still pumping through his veins and he half-heartedly tries to convince his body that he’s no longer falling a thousand meters a second.

 

He hears a knock at his door and it takes all of his willpower to not groan out loud.

 

Sulu doesn’t know who he’s expecting but he doesn’t expect to see Jim Kirk standing outside his quarters, face flushed and still in his gold armor. There’s a hard look in Jim’s eyes and Sulu recognizes that look as one he’s seen in several members of the bridge crew – Uhura once, when she finally came back to his room with him at the academy, wearing nothing but white lacy lingerie and that same determined look – the one that Bones wears when he’s snarling “Goddammit, Jim!” without a hint of mercy – the one that sometimes graces Kirk’s face when he and Spock are in a particularly vehement argument. Maybe it’s something that runs in Star Fleet officers.

 

It’s a look Sulu knows too well, a look that Sulu’s worn himself a few times. It’s determination and rebellion rolled together, and Kirk looks at Sulu now as if he is a mountain to climb to climb or an enemy to wrestle so it’s not really a surprise when – after Sulu wordlessly lets Kirk in and closes the door behind him quietly – Kirk fists both of his hands into the cotton of Sulu’s shirt, drags their mouths together in a slow kiss.

 

Hikaru parts his lips with ease, lets Kirk slide his tongue into Sulu’s mouth with a practiced ease and it feels natural for Hikaru’s hands to wrap around Jim’s waist, feels easy when Jim tangles his hands into Sulu’s hair.

 

“I’ve been waiting to do that,” Kirk gasps when they finally pull apart, and Sulu wastes no time, grabs onto the skin around Kirk’s jawline, licks a thick hickey with zeal. “Ever – oh _god_ Hikaru, do that again – ever since that time at the academy.”

 

Sulu hums into Jim’s skin, feels Jim’s pulse thudding under his tongue. “I – I’ve never seen anyone fly like that before,” Jim stutters.

 

“And now I’m flying for you,” Sulu finishes the thought, drags his tongue down the pale column of Kirk’s neck.

 

“Everyone wanted to fuck you that day,” Kirk rasps between breaths and Sulu smirks, “I know.”

 

Eventually, they manage to strip themselves of their clothes and Sulu pushes Jim onto his bed, crawls over him without a word, latching his lips onto Jim’s.

 

Jim wants _skin_ , Hikaru can tell, lets his Captain run his palms all over his pilot’s body, fingers brushing over the line of Hikaru’s dick, kneading at his thighs before Sulu finally, finally kisses Jim.

 

They fuck like how they fight – Jim rolling his hips in fast, sharp movements, Hikaru deftly slipping a hand in between their bodies to tug at their cocks – quickly and efficiently and Jim buries his moans in the well of Sulu’s throat like he’s ashamed of them.

 

And then teeth scrape at the skin around Sulu’s nipple, tongue roving thick strips onto Sulu’s flesh and still Kirk whines against Hikaru’s ribs, _please Sulu_ , whimpers until Sulu can feel the vibrations of Jim’s mutterings against his chest. _Hikaru please_ , under his breath like a prayer.

 

“What do you want,” Sulu murmurs against the heat of Kirk’s skin. “Tell me what you need.”

 

“Tie – tie me up,” Kirk gasps. “I want you to tie me up and fuck me.”

 

And Kirk’s cock is a line thick against his chest, throbbing over his stomach. Sulu runs his hands over it, squeezes, and it feels like satin over steel.

 

“Yeah?” Sulu dares, runs his thumbnail over the head of Kirk’s dick, spreads the precome all over. “Think you can handle it? _Captain?_ ” The rank is like a pet name in Sulu’s mouth, all thick and saccharine and challenging.

 

“Hikaru,” Jim falters and Sulu pulls his hand off.

 

Hikaru pulls his leather belt from his pile of clothes, holds it in front of Jim to ask, “Are you sure you want this?”

 

Hikaru expects Kirk to be a little challenging, more flirtatious but Jim just flutters his eyelids, arches his back into Sulu and says quietly, “Please.”

 

So Sulu ties his hands together first, then to the headboard over Kirk’s head so Jim lies spread on his sheets, nipples dark and ribs heaving – “ _Fuck_ ,” Sulu utters at the sight – and Sulu is so hard it hurts.

 

He scissors his fingers in Kirk’s asshole until he’s loose and limp and pliant. Hikaru slides his dick in in one go, hears Jim let out a single, audible hiss before he begs Sulu to fuck him hard, whines like a bitch but still rides Sulu’s cock like he’s paid big bucks at the rodeo.

 

Sulu is relentless, fucks Kirk into the mattress and relishes the feel of Jim clenching around his dick, buries his hands into the sheets on either side of Jim’s hips. Kirk is loud, moans and groans and begs and whines and Sulu loves it, slamming his hips into Jim ruthlessly.

 

The headboard groans in protest and with every thrust the metal frame of the bed rattles against Sulu’s wall but Sulu’s knot holds.

 

He feels hunger pushing under his skin, the adrenaline back and rushing through his veins as he grabs handfuls of Jim’s hair to crash their mouths together. He’s thinking, _more, more, faster, harder_ and Jim vocalizes his thoughts, always mewling and whimpering like he’s a fragile little thing and Hikaru is the only one who can break him.

 

When Kirk is panting heavy and sweat gleams on his collarbones, Sulu wraps a calloused hand around Jim’s dick to jerk him off, but slowly, so that Jim can feel every flick of his wrist and every scar on his hand. And when Jim finally climaxes he throws his head back, exposes his neck where a string of dark purple hickeys adorn his neck, moans Hikaru’s name and a litany of curses to follow.

 

Sulu keeps fucking him, presses his thumbs into Jim’s hips and runs his tongue over the corner of Kirk’s jawline, rolls his hips in a slow dirty wave before he comes, pulses into Jim and bites onto the skin of Jim’s neck.

 

After a moment, Hikaru unties Kirk, ghosts his nails over the red of Jim’s wrists where the leather chafed his skin and Jim shakes his head, _it’s fine_.

 

Sulu tosses his belt over his shoulder and collapses next to Jim.

 

They lie there for a few moments and Sulu listens to the uneven rise and fall of Kirk’s chest, feels the hunger satiated and absent from his gut.

 

“Can I borrow some of your clothes?” Jim manages to rasp, and Sulu snorts at the domesticity of it all, waves his hand in the direction of his dresser in a ‘mi casa es su casa’ sort of way. He reaches for the tissues on his bed stand and cleans himself off, tosses the box to Jim who does the same.

 

Hikaru watches from the bed as Jim borrows some of his clothes, sees the pair of thumb-shaped bruises on Jim’s hipbones disappear under one of Hikaru’s shirts. Sulu nestles himself back into his sheets and feels the scrape of the sheets against his bare skin.

 

Jim stands awkwardly at the foot of Hikaru’s bed for a heartbeat, then says “I’ll come back for the armor later,” in a farewell of sorts, to which Sulu replies, “See you tomorrow,” and Kirk slips out of Sulu’s room with a slight limp.

 

The adrenaline has been drained from his veins and Sulu examines the pile of gold armor pieces lying on his floor next to his own clothes with mild interest, before falling asleep to the sound of his own breathing.

 

-

 

The next day Sulu has Alpha shift with the Captain and everything stays the same. This is Sulu’s last day on the Enterprise and they’re scheduled to return to Earth tonight.

 

Sulu nods to Kirk as he comes aboard, eyes flitting over the hickeys peeking out from under the collar of Kirk’s golds. Kirk graces him with a small smile, eyes crinkling, and Sulu takes his seat in front of the Captain.

 

In the lull of warp, Chekov murmurs to Sulu about the time his cousins played an exceptionally vicious game of Durak, fingers fluttering over his console and mouth curled around the edges. Sulu chuckles in all the right places and he can hear Uhura tutting in content behind him, Commander Spock and Captain Kirk exchanging soft words behind her.

 

The ambience of the bridge lulls him and Sulu is almost sad when his shift draws to a close. He claps Pavel’s shoulder in lieu of goodbye and smiles at Nyota, is about to close the doors to the turbolift when Kirk slips in just before the doors slide shut.

 

“Hi,” Jim breathes and Sulu gets a good look at him in the bright lights of the turbolift.

 

“You look like hell,” Sulu blurts out and Kirk snorts, “Hello to you too,” as the turbolift starts and begins to whir around them.

 

“I’m serious,” Sulu says and it’s mostly true – Jim’s lips are partially swollen, skin flushed with bruises and hickeys alike, and the limp doesn’t help at all. Kirk looks thoroughly fucked and Sulu would feel bad if he were a better person.

 

“You’re a rough fuck,” Jim states, as if he weren’t the one spread out on Hikaru’s sheets, begging for more when half of Sulu’s hand was stuck up his ass. A shadow of a smirk dances on his lips.

 

Sulu half-scoffs, half-laughs, shakes his head. “I’m not apologizing if that’s what you want.”

 

Kirk has a way of coming closer to people without moving and in the space of the turbolift Sulu suddenly finds himself next to Jim, Jim’s chest hovering over his arm and Jim’s head cocked to the side.

 

“I want a second round,” Jim smirks, voice low and suggestive, right into Sulu’s ear just as the hum of the turbolift dies down and the doors slide open to reveal the bustling mess hall.

 

If there’s anything that Sulu knows about Jim Kirk, it’s that the Captain’s go-to defense is flirtation, and this is Kirk flirting at its finest.

 

Sulu steps off the lift, but not before smirking back over his shoulder, “Whatever you want, _Captain_ ,” not even bothering to keep the insinuation out of his tone.

 

-

 

They come back to Earth and there’s both celebration and mourning.

 

Celebration first – the christening of the USS Enterprise and Captain Pike’s relief from active duty. They’re all assigned back onto Enterprise for a five-year mission – “God help me,” Sulu hears Doctor McCoy mutter from behind him at the ceremony – and will leave as soon as possible.

 

And then after the shock of being assigned on a mission dies down, the crew of the Enterprise mourns for the death of hundreds – most were cadets from Sulu’s graduating class – on board seven Federation ships answering the Vulcan distress call.

 

The whole academy is silenced; everyone seems muted and even the skies seem grey.

 

But time tides over them all and before Sulu realizes it, he’s back on the Enterprise, bright lights in his eyes and comfortable in his uniform.

 

When Kirk sits himself in the Captain’s chair, he grins at Hikaru, says, “Punch it,” and Hikaru finally feels at home.

 

-

 

There’s two sides to Jim Kirk, Sulu decides, during a slow shift on the bridge.

 

There’s the Jim Kirk that most people know – the one on the turbolift and the one that anyone who hasn’t met Jim Kirk thinks he is. This is Captain Kirk, with perfectly tousled hair and sharp eyes, always smirking and flirting as evenly as he breathes. Captain Kirk is sly and quick, always has quips up his sleeves and when he fixates his attention on you it’s hard to look away.

 

And then there’s just Jim. Just Jim is the one writhing in Sulu’s bed, slow to respond and more calculating. This Jim is the one that Sulu sees behind closed doors, begging and pleading, tan skin juxtaposed to the off-white of Sulu’s sheets.

 

He’s not sure which one he likes better, not sure if Jim realizes that partitions himself off into two halves and not sure why he’s spending time thinking about Jim Kirk at all.

 

-

 

They fuck again, a week after the USS Enterprise leaves it’s space dock over Earth.

 

Hikaru is in the gym, in a secluded room in the back where mats cover the floor and walls, sitting on the floor and tying the laces of his shoes when Jim walks in.

 

“You don’t come here often,” Hikaru notes, after the other has sat down next to him on the floor.

 

“To the gym? Not really,” Jim says, sounding a little distracted, eyes fixed on where Hikaru’s fingers are tying his laces.

 

“What’s the special occasion?” Sulu asks and Jim finally meets his eyes. Kirk still has the same eyes – those same piercing baby blues that Sulu remembers seeing so long ago.

 

“I was looking for someone,” Kirk says eventually, gets up onto his feet and offers a hand to Sulu. “Haven’t practiced hand-to-hand with another person for a while.”

 

Sulu looks at Jim’s outstretched hand for a moment, calculating – it’s calloused and pale – thinks of that same hand pressing into Sulu’s thighs. He then grabs Kirk’s palm and tugs him into the mat, wrestling him into the floor.

 

Through the mélange of limbs, Sulu hears Kirk bark out a laugh, a mutter – “Thought you’d fight dirty,” – and Sulu can’t keep the smile from creeping onto his face as they tousle.

 

Kirk aims for Sulu’s knees, swipes for his ankles and Sulu twists and turns out of his grip. Blood rushes to Sulu’s brain and all he thinks is, survive, survive, survive. He avoids Kirk’s reach by ducking out of the way, twisting to kick at the bend of his knee. There’s a huffed sound from Kirk, who then takes advantage of the height difference, slams his forearms into the back of Sulu’s neck and then they tumble into the floor.

 

Neither of them are afraid to play dirty – Kirk growls at Hikaru and slams the heel of his palm into Hikaru’s crotch and Sulu heaves a ragged breath as he curls up, snarls into Kirk’s leg and digs his fingernails into the soft flesh of Kirk’s inner thigh underneath Kirk’s loose gym shorts.

 

They’re an evenly matched pair – Sulu is lithe and quick where Kirk is powerful and solid – but eventually they’re out of breath and Kirk slams Sulu onto the floor more gently than the previous times.

 

Kirk breathes heavily for a moment, and Sulu pants, “Well.”

 

Their chests heave and Kirk lets his head hang, forehead resting on Sulu’s shoulder. “Found you,” Kirk croaks and Sulu manages a dry chuckle.

 

Sweat covers Sulu’s back in a sheen and he thinks he feels it soaking his thin cotton tee. Kirk’s skin is a pleasing shade of pink and his mouth falls open, breath hot on Sulu’s skin.

 

“Shower?” Kirk asks and it must be the rush still in his blood because Sulu nods, yes, lets Jim help him up.

 

“In my quarters,” Kirk supplies, “I have an actual water shower.”

 

“Perks of being Captain,” Sulu comments, as they walk down the hall to Jim’s room.

 

The keypad beeps when Kirk presses in his code, unlocks the door.

 

“Perks of fucking the Captain,” Jim smirks, holding the door open. And after Sulu walks in, Kirk smacks his ass before closing the door.

 

Jim’s cabin is spacious, walls painted a warm orange-red color and very nice. Sulu sweeps his gaze over the king-sized bed and the small pile of PADDs at the foot of it before Kirk pulls him into the bathroom.

 

They’re both adults, Sulu thinks as Kirk tugs him into the shower, and there’s no way either of them thought for a second that Kirk was proposing _just_ a shower at the gym.

 

But, Sulu reflects as water spills on the planes of Kirk’s chest, darkening the trail of hair sloping down Jim’s navel, if part of this, whatever it is, involves Jim and Hikaru accepting that shower is synonymous with sex, he can deal. Better here than them fucking like sweaty animals on the gym mats anyway.

 

“You have your thinking face on,” Jim says softly, running his wet hands down Hikaru’s spine.

 

“I’m thinking,” Sulu replies and steps closer to Kirk, underneath the hot spray of the showerhead, runs his fingers through the dampness of Jim’s hair, reveling in the softness of the strands.

 

“Mhm,” Kirk grunts. “Any way I can keep you from thinking?”

 

“I can think of a few,” Sulu aims for sultry but his words come out rushed and hungry and Jim leans in to capture Sulu’s mouth in a sopping kiss anyway.

 

Steam curls in thick tendrils around them and Sulu sighs around the familiar intrusion of Kirk’s tongue into his mouth. Hikaru tugs on Jim’s hair and Jim wraps his arms around Hikaru’s waist in response, grinding their hips together agonizingly slow.

 

For a few moments, they are content like that – Kirk’s tongue painting slow circles on the inside of Hikaru’s cheek, swishing over Hikaru’s teeth and Hikaru runs his hands down the slopes of Jim’s chest as an answer – but then Sulu’s skin begins to feel tight and hot, even under the steaming pressure of the shower and runs his tongue over Kirk’s bottom lip hungrily. He can feel the thick line of Jim’s cock, mostly hard and pressed against his own growing arousal.

 

With his hands planted on Kirk’s chest, Sulu pushes Kirk to the wall, pulls away from the kiss and watches a string of saliva stretch between their mouths before it’s washed off in the spray.

 

“Is this one of them?” Kirk asks, eyes half-lidded as he watches Sulu drop to his knee, hands planted on Kirk’s hips.

 

“Let’s find out,” Sulu replies, looking through his eyelashes at Jim before lowering his gaze to Jim’s cock.

 

Kirk’s dick curves towards his belly in a red swell and Hikaru laps around the skin of Kirk’s balls before tracing a path up towards the head, finally wrapping his lips around it.

 

Jim groans, runs his hands through Sulu’s hair and manages to choke out, “God,” when Sulu goes all in, feels Jim’s dick hit the back of his neck and brushes his nose against the thatch of hair at the base of Kirk’s cock.

 

Saliva pools underneath Hikaru’s tongue, and he blinks the water out of his eyes as he bobs up and down on Jim’s dick, eventually pulling off with a loud pop and finishing Jim off with his hand.

 

Jim comes and comes and comes, streaking across his chest and Sulu burns the image in his mind before the shower washes it all away.

 

-

 

Somehow, the dynamics of their relationship have changed, and Jim seems less and less heavy outside of the bedroom.

 

He’s still muted behind closed doors – whines softly for Hikaru and arches off the bed, hands tied tight to the headboard, bites his lips before he comes – but he flirts more with Sulu outside the privacy of their bedrooms and it becomes a game of sorts.

 

First it’s on the bridge. Mid-warp, the quiet hum of the Enterprise beneath Sulu’s feet and the murmuring of Pavel under his breath.

 

Kirk is an active man, pacing around the bridge or talking aloud to no one in particular, tapping his feet and running his hands up and down the arms of the Captain’s chair.

 

Everyone has their antics when the Enterprise settles in, core purring softly and everything on course. Uhura spins in her chair to face Spock, eyes wide and voice muted and mellow as she speaks about xenolinguistics probably. Spock nods cleanly, head slightly tilted towards Nyota and interjects once in a while in a low, even tone.

 

Doctor McCoy sometimes pops in when his shift is over down at Medbay and the bridge fills with his lilting, Southern drawl. Pavel of course, talks excitedly about whatever story he’s telling that day, hands flying and eyes darting, his tongue curling around v’s and the hard ‘k’ sound. Hikaru listens to Chekov with a smile curling on his face, sometimes drumming his fingers on his console.

 

Today, Spock and Nyota are in a heated conversation, both leaning in their chairs, not bothering to pretend to work. Pavel speaks about his mother’s _borshch_ , which, from what Hikaru can gather, is a beef and cabbage soup. His sentences are slurred and Pavel’s accent is thicker when he gets excited. Everyone has their antics.

 

So it’s not really surprising when the Captain rises from his chair, makes a lap around the bridge. Other crew members do it sometimes too, to stretch out their legs, but the Captain does it most often.

Sulu is watching Chekov speak so he sees Kirk make rounds out of the corner of his eye, and Kirk smirks at him as he walks past the animated Chekov.

 

“Yes, hello Keptin,” Pavel manages to warble before launching back into his tale of beef stew. Kirk slows down as he passes the front console, smiles at Chekov in an amused way but keeps on walking so he’s right by Sulu’s chair.

 

Now Sulu’s not dumb, and he’s pretty sure that Kirk’s already heard this story at least three times, and the way Kirk is smiling is less interested and more contemplative.

 

The Captain stops right next to Sulu’s chair, props his hand on the back but turns to watch Chekov and Kirk asks questions that just allow Pavel to blow his story about soup out of proportion but Sulu can’t really be bothered to listen to the questions because Jim decides that it would be a good idea to run his hands down Sulu’s back – brushing at the skin exposed in the back of his neck and at the top knob of Hikaru’s spine.

 

The touch sends a shiver down his spine but Kirk’s standing in such a way that blocks Sulu from the rest of the crew. It’s hard not to hiss at the hot touch of Kirk’s fingers and all Sulu can do is clamp his teeth onto his lip as Kirk scratches his nail across Hikaru’s skin.

 

“That’s wonderful Ensign!” Kirk laughs, eyes sparkling at Pavel and the Captain turns to look down at Sulu, “Isn’t it Lieutenant?”

 

“Of course, sir,” Sulu says, looking through his eyelashes up at Kirk. Jim smirks down at him and claps Sulu’s shoulder loudly. “Beautiful,” he announces, and continues his rounds.

 

Sulu gets him back at dinner.

 

Most of the bridge crew chatters happily at a table they’ve secured in the back of the mess hall. Sulu sits across from Nyota, Pavel on one side and Jim on the other. Pavel chatters excitedly to Spock, waves his fork around and the Commander nods solemnly.

 

It’s a normal scene at the dining room and Sulu chuckles in all the right places, agrees vehemently with Spock just piss Pavel off.

 

This is when Hikaru decides to turn towards Jim, “’Scuse me,” and leans across Kirk’s lap to grab the salt. He hears a soft intake of breath from Kirk, and as he reaches for the salt with his right hand, drops his left into Kirk’s lap where no one can see, runs a hand suggestively over Kirk’s thigh and up his crotch.

 

Back in his seat, Sulu sees Kirk grinning at him with an amused and frustrated look on his face. Hikaru raises an eyebrow, as if to say, _that was for the bridge_.

 

Jim clears his throat, leans back in his chair and throws his arm over the back of Hikaru chair. The Captain seems slightly flushed and shifts in his seat, doesn’t meet Hikaru’s eyes for the rest of the meal.

 

-

 

At the academy, the higher-ups sold all the cadets the idea of a deep-space mission as a glorious opportunity to discover new cultures and new planets, a great onslaught of sophisticated material meant to entice and appeal.

 

In all honesty, some days the five year mission isn’t all that bold, and no man has gone to this corner of the universe because it’s boring as fuck. Here the bridge is both quiet and restless, bland and white.

 

However, there is one planet-side mission that gets the crew going – Kirk makes a whole speech of discovering new worlds, and everyone is swept into the whirlwind that is their Captain – rapid-fire conversations and sharp smiles – all the way down to the surface of exoplanet 1738, class M. Sulu stays on board while Jim beams down with a few red shirts, claiming that he needed to ‘get off this tin can sometimes.’

 

The captain finds some indigenous species on the surface the planet, requests the presence of another thirty-odd crew members to beam down and have a look. Sulu decides that mission begins going downhill when the native tribe mistake the arrival of more red shirts as an offense, begin firing arrows laced with poison.

 

The USS Enterprise is spurred into action, Chekov spewing numbers and Spock speaking rapidly into the intercom. The whole thing feels surreal – Hikaru and Uhura watching unbelievingly as Scotty only manages to beam up a handful of crew members, Jim being one of them.

 

The whole ship feels somber after they leave that particular quadrant of space, and Hikaru finds himself heading to Kirk’s room after the day has been finished.

 

Hikaru likes the feel of Kirk after the two of them have showered, spent much longer in the water than what is strictly necessary on the account of a certain starship captain’s wandering hands and said-captain’s navigator sticking his tongue into multiple orifices. Hikaru likes it when Kirk lies boneless and pliant on his bed, stripped of gold shirts, captain ranks and black boots coated in the dust of some exoplanet’s terrain, dressed in nothing but skin and skin and skin.

 

But the lines of Jim’s mouth still carry the weight of 29 dead crew members, left on the exoplanet in a hail of poison arrows.

 

“Hikaru,” Kirk breathes and Sulu threads his fingers through Kirk’s soft hair, feels the coarse strands against the pads of his fingers. He runs his tongue along the planes of Kirk’s chest, counts every freckle as if he’s mapping a path through the constellation.

 

“Wasn’t your fault,” Sulu hisses, presses his teeth around the brown of his captain’s nipples and Sulu swears he hears Kirk whimper. “Wasn’t your fault,” he repeats, slips his fingers around the curve of Kirk’s ear to press his lips over a pulsing vein on Kirk’s neck and Sulu stays there until he hears Kirk hum in response.

 

The two of them lie on Jim’s couch in the Captain’s cabin, legs tangled together. Where Kirk’s sweatpants are low on his hips, Sulu runs his hand over the bare skin and revels in the heat of Kirk’s flesh.

 

“Hikaru,” Jim sighs and Sulu captures the breath with his tongue, hips bracketed around Jim’s thighs. A soft whine is emitted from Kirk, who drags his palms down the line of Hikaru’s spine and Hikaru in turn curves into the slopes of Jim’s chest, Jim’s waist, Jim’s legs as his Captain lies underneath.

 

Faint gasps fill the Jim’s cabin and Sulu isn’t really sure who they’re coming from, but manages to choke on a small moan as Jim tugs off Hikaru’s pants, runs a hot hand down to his cock.

 

“Bed?” Sulu pants into Jim’s ear and feels the stubble on Jim’s cheek brush against his temple as he nods.

 

They tumble into the sheets and Sulu may or may not have accidentally jabbed Kirk in the ribcage with his elbow but Kirk is compliant today, chest rumbling with the beginnings of a deep laugh as he allows Hikaru to clamber all over him.

 

“Fuck me,” Jim says quietly, as Hikaru works a fat hickey on Jim’s neck, “Tie me up and fuck me. _Hard_ ,” he insists and the telltale race of his heartbeat tells Hikaru that Jim isn’t the only one that enjoys himself tied up.

 

Hikaru complies, pulls out his belt and tries to convince himself that the shake of his hands has nothing to do with how his dick is straining against his chest, how his blood is rushing under his skin.

 

“Safe – safeword,” Hikaru says as he pulls the knots around Jim’s fists, pulls back in time to see a flicker of confusion on Jim’s face – as if he hadn’t thought of his own safety or as if he weren’t used to anyone giving it to him – and that tugs at Hikaru’s gut. Silently, Hikaru vows to take care of Jim.

 

“We need a safeword, Jim,” Hikaru presses and Jim shakes his head slightly, “Cardassian,” and Sulu nods, leans down to press his lips at the corner of Jim’s mouth.

 

There’s something about Jim that makes Hikaru’s gut twist, and Hikaru sees it now. The slant of Jim’s chest, the golden-brown color of his skin and the freckles scattered all over his body. Sweat gleans on his skin and Sulu traces his fingers over where the shadow of ribs lies, revels in the shiver that it extracts from Jim’s body.

 

He drags his fingers down the contours of Jim’s body – and Jim arches into the touch – past where Jim’s erection lies, and presses his thumb against the tight ring of muscle of his asshole.

 

As Sulu’s finger intrudes Jim’s body, the blond man underneath Hikaru lets out a loud moan, arches into Hikaru’s touch and Hikaru’s heart is beating out of his chest, the hunger in his gut demanding him to fuck Jim into the mattress, fucking floor him – but he controls himself, twists his wrist and here he is – three fingers deep in James Tiberius Kirk’s asshole, said James practically keening under his touch.

 

If it were another day, Sulu would mount Jim like this, with only a single finger as preparation, tearing into Jim’s ass. But today the Captain needs to be taken apart very slowly, as if Sulu is detonating a bomb. Perhaps another day.

 

 “Fuck me,” Jim gasps as Hikaru scissors him open and _Jesus_ , Jim is hot and tight and slick with lube, ring of muscle taut around Hikaru’s knuckles. Hikaru’s dick is hot against his chest but Jim’s erection is drooling precome and all Hikaru can see is skin, skin, skin.

 

Hikaru’s stomach clenches when he first pushes into Jim, hands fisted into Jim’s hair and his left elbow can’t seem to stop slipping on the sheets even as he thrusts harder and harder.

 

Something feels off about this – maybe the way Jim’s hips are stuttering, eyes screwed shut or Hikaru’s goddamn elbow slipping on the sheets – but Hikaru just fucks Jim harder for it, knows that this is something that they both need.

 

Jim feels hot and the friction is impossibly good – the room strangely quiet, full of only Hikaru’s gasps and Jim’s occasional whisper and the wet, obscene sounds of skin slapping on skin. The belt must be tearing at Kirk’s skin, Sulu can see it chafing Kirk’s wrists but Jim says nothing of it, so neither does Hikaru.

 

“Hit me,” Hikaru thinks Jim says, can barely hear him over the sound of his own balls slapping against Jim’s ass.

 

“What,” he breathes, fingers twisting into the sheets.

 

“Hit me,” Jim says louder, eyes livid and his mouth is pressed into a thin line. “I said, fucking hit me, Sulu,” Jim demands and Sulu was never one to back down from a challenge – raises his hand and slaps it against the skin of Jim’s cheek without halting the rhythm of his thrusts.

 

The loud slap resounds throughout the cabin, bounces back into Hikaru’s ears and his palm stings. “Again,” Jim hisses, and Hikaru obliges, whips his knuckles across Jim’s pretty face, moans when Jim clenches his ass around him.

 

There’s a familiar clench in Hikaru’s gut, his balls tightening, and Hikaru lashes across Jim’s face once, twice, three more times, and Jim’s breath catches every time, eyes rolling back into his skull. Blood roars in Hikaru’s ears and he comes in a thick rush, pulsing into Jim.

 

Sulu rides out his orgasm, bends down to capture Jim’s mouth in a bruising kiss before jerking him off roughly. Jim comes in ribbons across his chest, milky white against his tan skin.

 

Hikaru watches the rise and fall of Jim’s chest as he breathes, reaches up to undo the belt with both hands.

 

“That was good,” Jim slurs beneath him, eyes shut and lips swollen. His left cheek is ruddy and puffy, but as soon as he’s free from his restraints, Jim threads his fingers through Hikaru’s hair, pulls him down to run his tongue over Hikaru’s lips.

 

Hikaru hums against Jim’s kiss, fingers running down his back and feeling every knob of his spine in content.

 

-

 

Lights rouse Hikaru from his sleep. Pale, yellow lights that tickle his eyelids. His cheek is mashed up against Jim’s ribs, arms curled around Jim’s waist. He feels a pair of fingers running through his hair.

 

When Hikaru finally cracks open his eyes, he sees Jim watching him.

 

“Cardassian,” Jim says, and his lips are turned up in a faint smile. The light slashes Jim’s face, falls onto his puffy cheek and split lip.

Hikaru closes his eyes, burrows his head back into Jim’s warm skin.

 

“You still remember that?” he says, mostly into Jim’s ribs.

 

“I do,” Jim hums, and his fingers keep carding through Hikaru’s hair. Hikaru traces his thoughts back to the first time he met Jim, like throwing a stone into calm water, and he squeezes his eyes shut again, falls asleep with Jim’s fingers twined in his hair.

**Author's Note:**

> title from the poem "sailing the seas in a pecan tree" by carrie richards


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